


Here in this Place

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Season gr8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas comes back to the bunker, a week and a half after Sacrifice. Dean doesn't realize that he's human at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here in this Place

Sam was asleep. Thank God he was asleep. He had been up for a week after Crowley, the pain in his veins excruciating. Dean thought he would have to take him to the hospital, did everything that he could, but still it didn’t seem like enough. Doctors wouldn’t know what to do though. They wouldn’t have a clue.

Crowley was in the dungeon. Dean was doing the best he could for him, bringing him food and caring for him, making sure he was comfortable. Crowley was still chained up, one demonic handcuff tethering him in place, but he understood. Dean couldn’t trust him. He had done so much damage, there was no human that could ever trust him again.

He was thankful though.

They were running low on supplies. Sam had been asleep for three days and Crowley ate more than Dean would have expected. He grabbed his coat and the keys to the Impala and headed out, ready to go to the grocery store, get something other than bread and beer.

He was almost to the car when he saw it, a figure, standing far off, looking small and insignificant. The bunker was invisible, untraceable, no one could find it unless they already knew where it was.

Cas was almost unrecognizable. The trench coat was gone, the suit was more crumpled and ruined than usual. There was dirt everywhere, tears in the knees of his slacks, and his face was gaunt. He was paler, other than a sunburn on his neck, thin and haggard, a beard coming in heavy on his jaw. He tried to get smaller as Dean approached him.

“Where were you?” Dean growled, unable to control the anger that had bubbling inside of him at the angel’s latest betrayal. He grabbed Cas by the tie, dragging him easily closer and pushing him towards the bunker. “I needed you! I called you! Sam was dying and you! You weren’t even listening! What happened to “I always come when you call.”

Cas practically whimpered as Dean shoved him inside. He had no reason to be gentle with Cas. He could take it. He was an angel for Christ’s sake.

Yet the skin felt soft and Cas fell back as Dean swung, his knuckles colliding with Cas’s jaw. “Why didn’t you listen? Why don’t you ever listen?”

Dean threw another punch, getting Cas’s cheek, making him fall in the other direction, “Why can’t you be good? You break everything you touch!”

Cas’s fingers were clutching at him, not to get him to stop, not for comfort, but to keep him standing upright. Dean kept punching, one two three and Cas’s face was a mottled mess, blood and bruising and swelling, but still he wasn’t letting go. And Dean was still screaming, still laying on the abuse that Cas so rightfully deserved.

“Dean?” asked a soft, weak voice.

Dean stopped, turning, finding Sam leaning against a wall, eyes red and sunken, still tired and weak. It slowly dawned on him what he was doing. Yes, Cas deserved this, Cas was bad news, he needed to be punished for what he had done. But he deserved it from the angels. This, this was wrong.

Dean stared back at him. There was blood dripping from Cas’s split lip, his broken nose, a gash just above his eyebrow where one of Dean’s rings had torn off the flesh. Cas was an angel. Angel’s don’t look like this when they get punched. Angel’s don’t bleed, they don’t swell. Angel’s are like stones when you punch them. Dean remembered the first time he’d tried, the pain in his hand when he didn’t even connect.

This Cas before him, clinging onto him and falling down regardless. This was no angel.

“Cas?” Dean asked and his voice was thin, worried.

“Keep. Going.” Cas stammered, hard to form words through the pain in his face.

“What?”

Cas pulled him closer, so his broken lips were against Dean’s ear. “Do it. Go on. Punch. Me. Do what you. Have to. Kill me.”

Dean pulled away and stared at Cas, so needy before him.

“Please.”

Cas flinched at the next touch, but it was an embrace, Dean pulling Cas in, feeling the wetness of blood, tears, and mucous drenching his shirts. Dean didn’t know what to do, how to comfort Cas, how to fix this. He cursed himself for hurting him, for not even listening.

“Why did you do it, Cas?” his voice was trembling as his anger fell away, “Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I couldn’t trust. Naomi. Not after. What she did.” He confessed, “I. didn’t. Finish it. I didn’t. Cause the fall.”

Dean believed him. After all this time he had no choice but to.

“Metatron. He. He lied to me, Dean. He. Cut.”

Dean couldn’t understand the next bit as Cas was shaking and sobbing, unable to contain the tears leaking from his eyes, stealing his voice. Angel’s weren’t able to cry.

“He cut out my. Grace.” He finally repeated, “He made. Me human. Used it. To exile the. Angels.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean mouthed, holding Cas even tighter.

Dean pulled back, wiping away as much blood and tears as he could. Sam was almost asleep, as much as he cared. He put an arm around Sam, the other around Cas, and helped lead them both through to bunker. He dropped Sam off in his bed, tucking him in quickly, and put Cas in the spare room. Cas wouldn’t let go of him though, kept a firm grip on his shirt.

“I need.” He whined, “to atone. You must.”

“You don’t need to do anything Cas.” Dean promised.

“You must hate me. I ruined so. Much. I wasn’t. there. I didn’t help. Sam. Now. I can’t.”

“It’s okay.” Dean fixed his hair as much as he could with blood slick fingers. He would have to get him to take a bath. He’d have to buy him clothing of his own. There was so much that Cas didn’t know about being human. “It’s okay.”

Dean’s fingers trailed down, took Cas’s wrist in his hand. It was too thin. “How did you get here?”

“Walked.” Cas murmured.

“You haven’t eaten.” Dean realized. Cas was so thin, he had no money only what Jimmy had had on him all those years ago.

“A little.” Cas admitted, “Found things.”

So he’d been dumpster diving. Great. Dean clutched at him, pulling him close. Cas had been a goddamned angel of the lord. He had been strength and good intent embodied. Now he was eating from the garbage, thin and possibly sick, face beaten in, so weak that he couldn’t let go.

“I was about to go out. Get some food.” Dean mentioned, “You want anything specific?”

Cas held him tighter, burying his head in Dean’s neck.

Dean knew what he wanted. Knew what he needed, and it wasn’t anything he could get at a grocery store. Dean stroked his back, slow and smooth, feeling his ribs and spine.

“You’re home.” Dean gave, “You’re safe. I forgive you.”

That led to a whole new torrent of tears. Cas hiccupped and clung and sobbed, muscles seizing, Dean’s shirt further ruined. Dean continued to stroke, giving comfort where he could, telling Cas that it was alright, that he could get all of this out of his system.

When Cas stilled once more Dean asked what had been on his mind for a while. “How long had you been outside?”

“A few. Hours.”

“Why didn’t you come in?”

Cas finally pulled away and now his face was completely ruined. All of the landed punches had caused the skin to swell so much, he could hardly see. Dean couldn’t look at his face, all he saw there was pain. He stood up and Cas reached out, trying to get him to stay.

“I.” he mumbled.

“I’m going to get you some ice, okay?” Dean promised, “Help reduce the swelling.”

He left him then, going to the kitchen to grab an ice pack and when he returned Cas was half undressed, pulling away his tie and blazer, tossing them to the ground to meet his mud coated shoes. He was trying to get more comfortable.

Dean sat back down beside him and held out the ice, letting Cas nuzzle into it, use the coolness to soothe his pains.

“How long had you been outside, Cas?” Dean asked again.

“Well.” Cas thought on it, taking the ice pack in his own hands and leaning back against the headboard, “The sun was rising. When I. got here.”

Dean paused, staring. It was 5pm! Cas had been out there all day? “Why didn’t you come in?”

Cas looked away from him, trying to breathe. Everything hurt. “Scared.”

“What?”

“I was. Afraid. I didn’t. Want to see. Your disappointment.”

Dean stared even further. Everyone felt they were letting him down. They weren’t. When had he made everyone think he had such impossible standards?

And Dean kissed him. He didn’t know why. It just felt right. A small little peck on either eyelid, feeling how one was more swollen than the other with his lips, feeling the burn of tears and the cold of the ice. Cas’s eyes were as wide as they could be around the expanded capillaries and pain when Dean pulled away.

“Never again, okay Cas?” he asked. “Don’t ever be afraid of me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I deserved. It.” Cas put his hand on top of Dean’s.

“No. You never deserve to hurt, Cas.” Dean promised.

He stayed with Cas until the ice pack was all mush and Cas had fallen asleep. He wrapped the former angel up in blankets before leaving, checking up on Sam, and heading out to get the groceries.

He decided to get a whole pie instead of just a slice. He needed to share it.


End file.
